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Tale of the Tuesday Nothing

Dreamed of you this morning,
Then came the dawn and ,
I thought that you were here with me

Marvin never lied! I tossed and turned through the night, most likely because you were featured in my dreams. I hadn’t thought about you in months, but there you were, begging me to do all of the freaky things I taught you to love. Over the course of five years I imagine I taught you a little about pain, while you learned so little about me. Regardless of what you expected of me, I was only willing to give you what I thought you deserved.

In those five years that alternated between good sex, a sounding board, a movie date, a few drinks, more sex and ultimately an abortion. How the moments we had amounted to years I’ll never understand, especially since initially I had not a thought about you, but you pushed your way into my life and I pushed myself deeper inside of you. It was all simple when we started; I was new in town, you lived close enough to my job, favorite watering hole and the highway, so that was more than enough to take your number and an invitation to drop by.

The vodka I’d been drinking most of that day cut the small talk in half and led directly to your bedroom. When we emerged a couple hours later I’m not sure you knew what you had gotten yourself into. It seems that somewhere between your stoop and those three flights up to your apartment you had gotten into your mind that I was the ideal guy for you to be in a relationship with, despite numerous admissions that I could never be in a relationship with a woman with a child. I’m far too selfish to have time I want restricted to weekends with her dad, summers Down South or creeping over when she’s asleep, so I wanted to keep up casual.

You had other plans and somehow we had plans every Sunday and Tuesday night, plus we spent Saturday texting when you were at your part-time job and I guess it seemed like a relationship to you. I guess you ignored the fact that I pretty much had two girlfriends at the time or it simply didn’t matter. Many things didn’t matter, especially after Happy Hour one night when you told me that you really needed to see me and I was so drunk that I disregarded the fact that your daughter was home and dropped by for a quickie while she was in the tub. I was so wasted and you were moving so quickly that we didn’t use a condom and the results were positive two months later. Well, negative, but positive on a pregnancy test. You didn’t want another child and I don’t want kids at all, so I delivered $465 to your place and we decided that we should stop seeing one another.

In the next six months I broke up with one girlfriend, moved in with the other and you started seeing someone that seemingly wanted the same things you did. You seemed happy and I dodged a bullet, so all’s well that ends well, or so we thought. Those Saturdays at work got lonely for you and the texts restarted and for the next year we communicated as friends, as I gave you advice on everything from school to ironically, your relationship. It was all good until you started showing up at the bar where I hung on Tuesday and we started catching a movie afterwards or watching football on Sunday while eating pizza and wings or catching a matinee.

Funny, we were buddies and it seemed like nothing more. You broke up with one guy, starting seeing another, my girl thought the rainbow was enough and moved out, leaving me back in those streets. And still, we hung out twice a week, sometimes more because your little girl started playing softball at the park down the street from my place. It was still all good between us…until November 4, 2008. Somewhere between the excitement of history being made and a bottle of vodka, you ended up being late for your date with your man and naked on my couch. You broke up with him within days and wanted nothing more from me than to continue hanging on Tuesday and Sunday and maybe a few other days when she was at softball practice or with her dad.

Here we were again, drinking and having sex, acting like we’re “just friends” and every two weeks I had to remind you that I was never going to be in a relationship with you. You claimed to understand, but with each drink or each orgasm, you felt the need to ask me again. It seemed like we were living the same Tuesday each week, a few glasses of wine, a movie, a kiss, a whatever, and then a question. Then Sundays would yield the same thing, so I busied myself to avoid the conversation. But just as sure as Tuesday was on the calendar every week, there you were and I couldn’t rid myself of you, maybe it was the guilt of the abortion, maybe the sex was too good, nah it was the guilt.

You tried to insinuate yourself into different aspects of my life and that’s when I knew you went too far, so I started finding ways to occupy my Tuesdays until you go the message. I had gotten the hint when I realized you were closing in on 30 and although I had started to slow down, I was not going to creep to a crawl with you. No pain, no tears, no returned texts or calls, not even a kiss goodbye, I simply told you that this Tuesday thing was nothing. I hadn’t had a thought of you until you texted me three nights ago and showed up in my dream this morning, but there’s no room in my schedule for you anymore…


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